


I can show you incredible things

by curiosa



Category: Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship, or at least sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:56:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4597116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiosa/pseuds/curiosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all boils down to this, Takeru Takaishi is a little shit and Taichi Yagami regrets his drunken decisions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had all of these ideas for the digiotp week, well three that I was working on, although to be fair there's no such thing to me as an otp in this series, just lots and lots of possibilities. Anyway, this is the only one that has made it so far and to get it in on time it has to be in parts, otherwise I failed the challenge entirely.

There are three things Taichi notices when he wakes up. The first being that his mouth literally tastes like their old cat Miko's litter tray and it takes considerable effort to peel his tongue from the roof of his mouth. The second, that he definitely isn't in his own bed, or own room for that matter. At least the ceiling isn't one he recognises, just the same as the light blue bedspread that's draped across him, and the third, well the third is that he's pretty sure that's a hand on his ass and he has no idea who it belongs to.

 

“Shit.”

 

He twists around quietly, slipping out from underneath the bed covers and rolling to his feet with a dangerous wobble back towards the bed and its occupant. His arms stretching out wide to catch himself as the reason he doesn't remember any of this and his mouth tastes like hell, makes itself known with one soon to be pounding headache.

 

 _Mimi,_ he thinks, then, allowing his brain the seconds longer it takes to process, _tequila._

 

Thankfully his new friend seems dead to the world and Taichi allows himself a moment to take stock. He remembers the band and the bar, he remembers Mimi and her insistent push that he should try this, then this, until he was maybe not quite as coordinated as he would have liked. Stumbling around the bar and bumping into anything within his reach. God, had he been dancing at one point? He's not going to live that one down then. He won't be able to show his face in public for at least a week. And he hadn't even wanted to get drunk, not last night anyway because... because... he's supposed to be reporting to the high school to start his summer internship as the assistant soccer coach.

 

“Noooooo.”

 

He spins around, which is really, really dangerous, spying a clock on the bedside table. Just after six thirty and he's supposed to be signing papers and going through procedures at eight, and he's really, really hoping they're not expecting him to perform today because that's likely to get him kicked off the programme before he's even had the time to introduce himself properly.

 

His Dad will kill him.

 

This is not how a responsible adult behaves, Taichi, it just isn't.

 

Right, his clothes are sprawled across the floor as if he was in a really big hurry to get them off. Which, if his hazy alcohol induced memory serves him right, he was. He tip toes around picking up everything he recognises to be his, trying his best to put them back on without ending up flat on his back in the process. His jeans are hanging off the end of the bed post, and yes, his phone is still there, sat snugly in his back pocket. He clicks it on and swipes across the screen, eight new messages and four missed phone calls. Fantastic.

 

He re-pockets the phone, throwing his jeans over his shoulder. That just leaves his t-shirt and boxers, which are really inconveniently being used as a sort of pillow for his new mystery friends head. Taichi creeps over, debating over the necessity for underwear or a really awkward conversation. Did they even do formal greetings or did they just end up in bed together? His hand stretches out, two fingers closing over fabric as he pulls ever so softly and mystery guys blond head _moves_ , his nose wrinkling up as Taichi holds his breath and curses himself for getting into this situation. Right. Mimi and tequila. That girl owes him. Seriously. He pulls over another inch and mystery guy's mouth twists away in a frown that makes him really, really wary.

 

Taichi gives up.

 

He holds up his hands. “Look, I'm sure you're a nice guy.” Who just happens to like bringing home drunk strangers. But then what does that make Taichi in this situation? “And I really don't normally do this kind of thing.” That being drunken one night stands. “Without getting to at least,” He shrugs, even though the guy can't see him. “Know your name. I guess. I'm uh, really sorry.” Taichi winces, real articulate, and thanks whoever is watching over him that the guy hasn't woken up in the slightest. He holds his arm out over the guy's back, which is all pale smooth, bare skin in one fluid curve before the bedspread covers everything back up again. What's the etiquette for this situation? Should he pat him? No, that would be weird. Leave him a note? Or do they just pass like two ships in the night, like one of those couples Mimi's always devouring in those trashy novels she likes reading, never to sail in each others sights ever again.

 

His phone starts to vibrate in his pocket and that decides it. Taichi really needs to be going. He crosses the floor, praying the door doesn't squeak on him, throws one last look back at mystery guy all rumpled up in bed and softly whispers an apology.

 

-

 

Fifteen minutes later and he's sat on the Bay shuttle bus, still twenty minutes out from arriving at his destination. He checks his phone, the first few messages are from Mimi from last night and along the lines of how increasingly drunk he's getting, how the cute guy at the bar is checking him out, to _omg ur actually dancin!!!_ The next of which, thank you very much, includes a short video of one very drunk Taichi swinging his arms around and doing what can only be described as something _really_ weird with his legs. Seriously, it's not natural. He clicks out of the message and checks all of Mimi's social media, heart beating too fast and his breath feather light. He will kill her. So far there's photos of Mimi in her outfit from last night, pictures of the band and the crowd, all outstretched arms and swinging hair, as well as images of her with various people he does and doesn't recognise; the latter of which look increasingly star struck to even be in Mimi's vicinity. She's the kind of girl that has that effect on people, unless you've known her since she was ten and going through a major pink and dressing like a tiny cowgirl phase.

 

She's not uploaded anything which immediately makes him suspicious. There's a chance she's feeling guilty for the state he was in, it being all her doing and everything, but it's far more likely that she's keeping the evidence for a heavy dose of blackmail, or when she wants to bribe him into doing her some kind of favour at some point. 

 

He swipes back to his messages, the next one is from Hikari subtly asking what time he thinks he's going to be home without outright asking him where the hell he is at whatever time she sent it in the morning. There's a follow up message from her about an hour ago too, (in fact she'd been the last one to ring) this time leaving the subtle part out and asking where on earth he is and what on earth is he  _thinking_ ? He types out a reply, making out as if he hasn't woken up in a strange part of town with only yesterdays clothes on him and is now on his way to an interview. Then he goes into the next part of his plan. Jou Kido.

 

Jou lives about ten minutes away from the high school, which, if all goes according to plan would give Taichi just enough time to shove some water and soap in his face, spruce up a bit and get a clean change of clothes that would definitely be more first day at your new job material.

 

-

 

“You look...”

 

“Peachy. I know.” Jou takes a step back and allows Taichi to toe off his shoes and enter his shared apartment. Jou has only two states of dress that Taichi has even seen him in: formal wear that pretty much consists of a shirt, smart trousers, a tie sometimes but definitely always a blazer. Or formal wear that looks like it's probably been slept in in the last twenty four hours, which knowing Jou and the way that he studies _constantly_ , and Taichi isn't exaggerating there, probably has been. Currently it's the former, which means Jou is at least alert enough to comprehend what Taichi needs from him.

 

“I need clothes, some place to wash and lots and lots of coffee.”

 

“What?” Okay, maybe Taichi was wrong about the comprehending.

 

“I have a meeting. It's my first day, the soccer internship.” Light dawns in Jou's eyes. “I stupidly went out last night and Mimi-”

 

“Ah.” Jou says, adjusting his glasses and Taichi nods encouragingly. Mimi Tachikawa is a she devil and Jou understands that completely.

 

“Right. So I wake up and-” he waves his hands. Jou really doesn't and _won't_ want to know the details. “Look like this.” He grips a hold of Jou's nicely pressed and lined shirt, wrinkling the material between his fingers in his fist of desperation. “You have to help me.”

 

“Taichi Yagami doing the walk of shame?” Shuu Kido comes walking out of the kitchen, two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands and looking really smug in a way that might make Taichi's hands itch just that little bit to punch him.

 

“Walk of shame?” Jou asks as Shuu rolls his eyes from the back of him. He walks forward and hands Taichi one of the steaming mugs, the scent of it enough to make Taichi feel five thousand times more alert than he has been. He was maybe a bit too hesitant with the whole wanting to punch in the face thing. 

 

Shuu's free hand moves to clasp him over the shoulder. “Remind me that we really need to give him the birds and the bees talk one of these days. Even if it's just so he can understand adult conversation.” Jou sniffs in retaliation. He won't degrade himself down to their level, Shuu though. Shuu is awesome and at least dressed like a normal person, bleary eyed and messy hair and what looks like pyjamas; an old t-shirt and loose shorts, as he inhales his own mug of coffee. Taichi isn't even sure Jou owns pyjamas, maybe he just sleeps in sweater vests and charcoal slacks, that sounds like a real possibility. “Jou will get you a clean set of clothes, I'll grab some towels and there's a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet.”

 

A couple of minutes later and Taichi is stripping off his clothes as Jou roots through his cabinet. “You never know when you might be in need of a spare toothbrush.” Jou tells him, rooting through the various labelled boxes until he comes across the one marked toothbrushes; Taichi cranes his head to get a look, there has to be at least four in there. His friend is amazingly organised, that and maybe a little bit crazy.

 

“Speaking of,” Taichi says, the last part muffled as he pulls his top over his head, his elbow getting hooked in the sleeve until he can yank himself out of it. “Are you a boxers or a briefs type of guy?” Jou _looks_ at him. “I do have a preference but I'm willing to take whatever you will give me.” 

 

“Taichi, I am not about to--.”

 

“I will buy you a new pair, alright?” Because Jou has always had this hang up about privacy and sharing, in fact he won't even pee unless he's the only one in the cubicle. “Hell, I'll buy you a whole box of underwear.” Jou is still looking at him. Taichi isn't sure what to make of that, “Unless you want me to wash and--”

 

“No.” Jou's waving his hands, walking back into his room and opening the first drawer of his dresser. He pulls a clean pair of briefs, (Taichi knew it. And yes, he prefers boxers but he'll take whatever at this point) and slips them next to the pressed shirt, trousers and blazer on his bed. “You will not return them to me. In fact you can burn them.” Jou looks him up and down. “In fact it might be safer too.”

 

“Hey!” But Jou's only kidding, hiding a smile behind the palm of his hand.

 

“Just how did you lose your underwear or is that a story I don't even want to know?”

 

By this point Taichi has a mouth full of toothbrush, toothpaste all foamy around his gums and wow does that feel so much better? All minty clean and sparkling. Seriously he is never drinking with Tachikawa again. “Technically I haven't lost them,” he says. “I just couldn't retrieve them without a really long,” he shrugs, “or short, but definitely awkward conversation.”

 

“I was right the first time.” Jou goes. “I didn't want to know any of that.” He points to the left of Taichi. “The shavers just behind you. Shuu's making some eggs and more coffee.”

 

“Thanks,” Taichi says as Jou walks out of the room leaving him to it, “for everything. The Kido brothers are lifesavers and I'll fight anyone who says otherwise, you hear me?”

 

-

 

It's funny how being hungover can make him inhale food and how just twenty minutes later he's entirely regretting it. It's not the eggs themselves, or even the coffee, in fact he's actually pretty impressed at Shuu Kido's skills (he's had Jou's attempts at a meal during some late night cram studying and trust him, you're better off ordering take-out, always) even going so far as to say he almost has Mimi beat in the cooking stakes. Which is saying something. Even if he doesn't use the same amount of weird ingredients and experimental procedures that seem to work as she does. It's more a combination of the eggs and the coffee combining to swirl about in his stomach along with his nerves during the meeting. Okay and maybe some of the left over alcohol, he's not above admitting that, honestly.

 

For all intents and purposes he certainly looks the part. Jou's a little taller than Taichi so the legs of his trousers might be just that little bit too long, hardly noticeable. If anything it's the shirt that's the most painfully obvious because it turns out as Jou Kido grew he elongated into this slightly awkward moving stretch of lean muscle, whereas Taichi stopped just short by, okay, quite a few inches; filling out more in the chest and shoulder area enough for Jou's perfectly bought, or probably even handmade, tailored shirt to sit incredibly tight on his torso.

 

He thinks the receptionist was staring just that little bit too long is all he's saying.

 

“I thought we could start the day with some introductions to the team and maybe just a short warm up? See what you think of the quality of the players.” Coach Takahashi claps his hands together and Taichi uses all of his power to summon up what he hopes looks like a convincing grin. The last thing he wants to do right now is any kind of warm up, drills or running. Just breathing and keeping two feet walking one in front of the other is enough like torture.

 

“You brought the whole team in?” Taichi asks, he's now got a clean pair of clothes courtesy of the school, a plain black polo shirt with the schools crest embroidered on the left side of its chest and black sweat pants. He's assuming this means he's in and has passed whatever final test the school had set for him. Which yeah, he's amazed at himself really. Coach even has some spare cleats in his office that he's willing to lend him.

 

As they turn the corner to the changing rooms there's one of the kids tapping his shoes into place before he twists to stretch his back, looking up and grinning at the Coach before his gaze settles on Taichi and takes on, what even Taichi has to admit to horrifyingly, looks a lot like he's got stars in his eyes and the kids just come face to face with his idol.

 

“Daisuke Motomiya.” Taichi nods, swallowing thickly. The last time he'd seen Daisuke, he'd been about fourteen or fifteen to Taichi's what, seventeen? All thin and noodle limbed like he was just hitting puberty and didn't quite know how to use all of his newly transformed appendages to his own advantage. Taichi himself had still had chicken legs, but he'd at least known how to use them. The kid had been good for his age but Taichi had always thought him just that little bit too cocky with some of his moves, especially when most of them ended up with Daisuke flat on his back, his feet tackled out right from under him. The kid running circles around Taichi and his friends desperate to please them. As it turned out he was, but Taichi had spent months under the wrong impression that the amount of time he spent hovering around his vicinity, even to the point that he invaded his home, practically super glued to the side of his little sister; had all been in an effort to impress Hikari. He'd spent weeks practising his look of scary intimidation, wiped clean off his face the moment Hikari had rolled her eyes and pointed out the apparently glaringly obvious, to all but Taichi, that the only undivided attention Daisuke was trying to claim was for a different Yagami entirely. Namely, Taichi himself, which yeah, awkward.

 

Daisuke's eyes settle on Taichi's chest and okay, he'd thought the receptionist had been flat out staring. He debates the need to cross his arms over his chest, but maybe that would just draw further attention?

 

Coach Takahashi clears his throat and Daisuke blinks back to life, his face colouring. He recovers fast though, but then that always was Daisuke's forte, able to bounce back in a heartbeat. “You're the new assistant coach?”

 

Taichi nods and shakes the pile of kit in his hands for good measure. Which is when Coach Takahashi suggests that Daisuke show Taichi the way out while he grabs some spare cleats from his office. For just a beat of a second Taichi wonders if this is going to be super awkward, but then he's forgotten just how much Daisuke likes to chatter. Daisuke's changed over the years, filling out broad in the shoulders, a little short still of Taichi, but thick enough now that out on the field he could probably do some real damage, in fact he'd probably make a damn good defender.

 

“I can't believe Hikari never told me that you were going to be the new assistant coach.”

 

Taichi nods, stripping out of his super-too-tight shirt, thank god his skin can breath, and replacing it with the soft polo shirt that compared to Jou's feels like he's wearing practically nothing. He kind of can't believe it either. Hikari and him shall be having words later. 

 

“It's not exactly extra credit, but the work I'll be doing over the summer looks good for the classes I'm taking and it was actually one of my Professors who suggested it.” Not to mention that it never hurt to add on to his resume either. 

 

“Is it weird, being back here?”

 

Taichi tucks his clothes into a neat and folded pile that even Jou Kido would be proud of, looks up and shrugs. He'd been too busy this morning fretting about how to even get to the school wearing appropriate clothing, there'd been no time for worrying or thinking about coming back to his old high school, where he was then expected to try and teach some kids that in oh so many ways he still related to, something useful. Crap,  _he_ was going to be looked up to. 

 

In many ways not much has changed, the changing rooms are still in the same place even if they have received a lick of paint in the years he's been absent, but just because the walls have gone from a puce green to a summer sky blue doesn't change the route to the soccer fields, past all the old haunts of the lockers, the music rooms and the science labs; just minus the aching hormones and teenage growth spurts this time. In that retrospect, it's already one hundred times better.

 

It's hot and humid as the pair of them leave the air conditioned safety of the school and head out onto the field. The team is already waiting, running laps round the field with the sun beginning to beat down on their heads. “We came in fourth last year,” Daisuke explains, “but I reckon that we can at least make it to second place this summer. We've got a really good team going.”

 

Taichi nudges him. “We're going for first place if I have anything to do with it.” Daisuke grins back at him, all white teeth and with a heavy dose of expectation. Taichi just hopes he doesn't live to regret that one so easily.

 

Coach Takahashi's waving, holding two pairs of cleats in his hands and the pair of them jog over to him so that Taichi can put together the last of his outfit. Coach blows his whistle from behind him. Just wearing the boots fills him with a sense of belonging, the smell of freshly mown grass providing him with that last boost to keep going. Oh he'll suffer for it later, probably losing his momentum around lunch, but for right now at least it almost feels like he's buzzing. 

 

That is until he gets a look at the team from up close, running up towards them following the coach's whistle. Okay, maybe it's just the one team member in particular. The one that's staring at Taichi now, slightly wide eyed and mouth open and the sun landing on large amounts of pale skin that have already taken on a pink flush with all the heat and the running.  _Oh god, please no._ Taichi gets de ja vu for just a second, golden strobe lights hitting on skin, the alcohol and the heat of all of those bodies in the bar pressing in on him. Which is when distantly he hears somebody shouting his name, right before the soccer ball clouts him in the temple.

 

“Taichi!”

 

There's a hand helping him up and Daisuke's flapping his hands in front of him. Taichi blinks, grateful that nobody's ever thought to make soccer balls out of something heavier and that Daisuke wasn't that far away to make his kick particularly brutal. Still, he rubs his free hand over his head, massaging the tender area with his fingers, even if it's more likely that he's just got a bruised ego and a hearty dose of pure humiliation.

 

“You okay?” 

 

“Ah!” Taichi lets his hand drop from the one holding it.

 

New mystery friend is smirking down at him.  _Smirking._ He shrugs, “I could always--”

 

Taichi holds a hand up, voice tight and low as he says,“Stop that right there because this is not... appropriate and--” he blinks slowly. He doesn't even remember last night and already he's ruined his entire summer vacation.

 

“Alright guys step back, let Yagami get some air.” Coach Takahashi's voice cuts through the wall of gawkers. “Not the most inspiring introduction I'll give you, but a memorable one at least.” Taichi feels like the earth swallowing him whole right now would be preferable. Instead he pushes himself upright and shakes off Daisuke's fretting hands.

 

Smooth, Taichi, real smooth.

 

Later, Daisuke stands by Taichi's side as the team playfully kick the ball around, Daisuke keeping up a running commentary on who's who and what role they've played in previous seasons, or should play in this one. To be fair he's got some good ideas, but mostly his voice is akin to background buzz as Taichi watches over one player in particular, his brain recycling the words:  _jesus christ, what have you done?_ Over and over.

 

“So,” he clears his throat, his voice does not need to come out sounding that weedy. “Who's that player over there?”

 

Daisuke follows his gaze and nods his head. “That's Takeru Takaishi,” Daisuke shrugs, “he's more into basketball to be honest, but I persuaded him to try out for the summer team this season and he really isn't that bad once he understands what it is that he's supposed to be doing.” Taichi nods wordlessly, Takeru's definitely tall enough to lend himself more to the other sport and considering he's what, seventeen? (oh god) he's probably still in the midst of growing. He's definitely not as co-ordinated out on the field as some of the other players, but he makes up for that in speed, those long legs of his cutting across the pitch in half the time it takes some of the others. Taichi suddenly has an image of those same legs in tight, skinny jeans. The night before coming back to him.

 

Daisuke's watching him out of the corner of his eye and Taichi can feel himself sweating. Can people tell when you're having really inappropriate feelings? Thankfully, Daisuke has never been particularly that smart. If Hikari was here. Well, Taichi thanks god for small miracles.

 

God, what the hell was he thinking?

 


	2. Chapter 2

“But it's tradition,” Daisuke whines as Taichi tries one last valiant attempt to go home and throw himself onto his bed for the rest of the day, night, foreseeable future.

“I think you'll find I was the captain once and this,” he reluctantly pushes open the door, the smell of fresh herbs, spicy tomato sauce and thick, bubbling cheese hitting his nostrils, and okay, it does smell amazing and he'd maybe like to plunge head first into it, but still, his bed calls him. “Is not tradition until the first match has been played.”

Daisuke shrugs because he's a stubborn jerk, it takes one to know one, and Taichi is already through the door, the majority of the team trailing in behind him so that to leave he'd have to push his way through a solid wall of hungry teenagers. The sheer effort it would take wouldn't even be worth it. 

He takes a seat at one of the longer tables available and Daisuke immediately throws himself down next to him. “So the team, what do you think? Did you get a good look at Sato?” A couple of the boys take a seat at the table they've acquired, the rest making a beeline for the counter to order something. Taichi roams the ones in front of him, he's still not remembering names too well and the nicknames that he's given some of the guys probably won't do him any favours in the long run. You can't go saying ah, kid with the unfortunate receding hairline but quick enough to stop an oncoming cross without making a bit of a bad impression... Sato, he was definitely the one with the killer right kick that looked like it could really do some damage. Taichi had noted that he'd make a great centre-forward. “Definitely our striker, right?” Daisuke's found himself a napkin and a pen, drawing up lines and circles and various formations that Taichi's really sleep deprived and hungover brain can't truly comprehend right now.

Daisuke is great, he really is, but then there's the times when he just has too much enthusiasm. In fact if the table wasn't slightly sticky and covered in the leftover remnants of whoever last sat there, Taichi's pretty sure his head would be flat out on the table. Daisuke nudging him in the ribs with formation ideas or no.

Taichi's nose twitches as a cup of hot steaming heaven lands in front of him.

“You look like you could do with the pick me up.” Takeru is suddenly there, leaning over him, blond hair falling into his eyes, swinging his long legs over as Daisuke continues making more and more intricate doodles, muttering to himself as he crosses parts out and makes alterations. Taichi eyes them cautiously. Like any minute now he might whirl around and start quizzing Taichi on what he thinks of his formations. 

Seriously nothing can stop him.

By now Takeru's wrangled his way in to sit next to him, there's AC whirring around them and Taichi is just beginning to feel its benefit from the thick air outside, then again Takeru's close enough so that Taichi can feel the heat rolling off of him. He's not close enough to actually be touching. Not that Taichi's thinking about that, not in the slightest. He goes back to staring at the coffee which is steaming and smells so warm and inviting and like it might help with his brain fog, and tries to ignore the fact that Takeru is waiting for him to make his move. If he accepts the coffee he has to talk to him, whereas if he gets up and leaves he's a complete asshole. Right, he did sleep with him and then leave without a word or note to cover his um, sudden absence, so even more of an asshole then? Is that a thing? He's pretty sure Mimi would say it's a thing. For a brief flicker of a moment, he considers getting up and moving. Instead and against his better judgement, his hand reaches out, fingers encircling the warm and delicious cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he says, turning away from Daisuke to face Takeru whose smile is just flickering into place, highlighting the whole of his face. He's got a dusting of freckles along the bridge of his nose and cheekbones, not enough that they stand out on his currently slightly pinkish hued skin, but enough that up close Taichi can start to pick out constellations. 

“Sorry they don't sell it by the bucket.” Taichi swallows down a mouthful, eyes widening. It's good, scratch that, even better than good. It's exactly how he likes it, even down to the dusting of cinnamon on top. Takeru sees the looks of damn boy and explains, “You kind of told me about a hundred times how in the morning you would need coffee.”

“Right,” Taichi lets the word drag out. Any longer and maybe Takeru will forget the whole incident happened.

“You also tend to go on and on about how you take said coffee.”Takeru's lips curve into a grin. “I did think it was kind of presumptuous.”

Taichi ignores that one. Or tries to. God, does he really do that? Takeru, considering he definitely had some sort of drink in his hands at more than one point in the evening, the parts that Taichi can actually remember, looks positively glowing in comparison. Taichi has no idea how he does it. It's unnatural, it really is, eyes narrowing as he asks, “How are you looking so perky?” 

Takeru shrugs. “I guess I got a bit longer in bed than some others this morning.”

Ah.

Awkward.

Taichi puts his coffee down and runs his free hand through his hair, giving himself an extra five seconds to come up with some kind of conversation that actually makes all of this okay. “Right.” He starts twirling the cup round, over and over, stalling for as long as he can because realistically there is no way to make any of this even possibly acceptable. He clears his throat, “Yeah about that,” because he is supposed to be the adult here, which yeah, brings about a whole other lot of problems, “listen-”

“Ken's here.” Daisuke's elbow thuds into his back, pushing him forward and sloshing coffee all over the table and his fingers. Takeru, because apparently he's a really decent human being as well as being patient, which only serves to make Taichi about a thousand times worse, passes him a wad of napkins to mop himself up with and begins cleaning up the table.

Taichi waggles his fingers about, trying to air dry them himself. Jou will kill him if he wipes them on his trousers. Looking at Daisuke and his new friend, to Takeru who looks pointedly at the spare napkins before rolling his eyes as Daisuke makes a scene flitting around Ken like a honey bee. To be fair Ken looks equal parts humiliated by the attention and that people are looking at him as well as adorably charmed that it's Daisuke that's doing the majority of the staring. 

Daisuke leans in to say something to Ken whose eyes immediately flicker over to their table. Daisuke drags him over what looks like semi reluctantly to the table, one hand clamped over Ken's arm as he introduces him to Taichi. Ken Ichijouji. The rest of the team throw him quick nods of recognition, clearly having met him a thousand times before, which, judging from the way Daisuke is pinned to his side like any minute Ken might make a run for it out the door and leave him behind, is probably more than likely. Ichijouji. The name vaguely rings a bell in the back of his mind and he mentally shuffles through names he's heard Hikari mention. Maybe she's talked about him before.

Ken takes a seat across from them. He's wearing a button up shirt and pressed trousers and definitely looks like he feels out of place, smoothing back a few strands of his hair that's probably around shoulder length when loose, but is currently tied back neatly in a sort of man bun thing that he's maybe pulling off... Taichi's undecided. Can you get away with wearing a bun and smart wear? Other than the hair situation he could be a younger version of Jou, he's dressed more for the kind of place that at least uses cutlery, that's all he's saying. 

Daisuke throws him a goofy smile and Ken returns the gesture with a thin smile of his own, casting a flickering glance at Taichi before avoiding eye contact. Which, weird...

“Ken goes to Toyama.” Takeru explains.

“Ah,” Taichi nods wisely like he understands the intricacies of going to a private school. Not that his parents would have wasted that kind of money on his education, Hikari maybe. “So how do you all know each other then?”

Before Daisuke has a chance to open his mouth, Takeru interrupts him with, “They were severe soccer rivals in middle school. Well I say severe, maybe on Daisuke's side, but personally I think Ken was a little out of his league from the beginning. It took him a while to notice Daisuke was even on the same playing field.” 

Taichi nearly spits his coffee out as the words, “That's not true,” ring out in succinct unison, one highly outraged and the other considerably more meek. Takeru, for his part just grins at him and mouths the word severe, his eyes widening. 

“So food? I'm starving.” Daisuke grabs his stomach and starts beating away. He gets up to order food and maybe accidentally clonks Takeru on the head on the way over. Ken sits awkwardly for just a couple of seconds before he hops up from his seat and goes over to join him.

Takeru waits a beat, until they're both out of earshot before saying, “So the pair of them are in the early days of,” he shrugs and winces, “dating,” he throws out a wobbly hand, lips leaning to one side, “not dating.”

“Right, that makes sense.” Taichi says, he's definitely sensing a whiff of hormones and tension in the air. And is it just his imagination or is Ken throwing him vibes of, keep your filthy hands away from my man, about him? That's maybe just his wild imagination. “Is it just me or-?”

“Does Ken want to imagine you're a napkin and shred you into tiny infinitesimal pieces?” Takeru looks at him point blank. “Yeah, that's not just you, but I think I joined you in his vivid imagination there for a moment. Self esteem issues, Daisuke's working on it. They're really good for each other.” He winces before saying, “Do you want something to eat?” Hands already flying down to clasp his wallet. Taichi debates the fragility of his stomach. It's definitely still delicate enough that the idea of putting grease and stodge in there leaves him feeling a bit queasy. Also there's the definite worry and danger that if he does say yes he's moving them into distinct maybe-more-than-just-friends territory. He's got Mimi's top five list of dating no no's going around and around his head.

“I'm good thanks with the coffee. How much do I owe you?”

Taichi doesn't miss the downbeat look of disappointment that skims red hot fast across Takeru's face as he shakes his head, quickly closing off any signs that he's caught off guard as Taichi tries his best not to wince noticeably. He was supposed to be letting him down gently, being nice about it. Making things not incredibly awkward in the long run.

He really, really shouldn't. He does anyway. “My treat. What can I get you?”

Takeru blinks, clearly taken back for a second before he finds his bearings. “Um, I'll have a slice of peperoni, you can eat the crusts.” Taichi looks at him. “Well it means that I don't have to and it'll build up your stamina. Soak up some of that alcohol. Though for the record I think you hid your hungover self quite well.”

He's smirking and Taichi feels a bloom of warmth fill his stomach.

“Thanks,” he replies sarcastically, taking one last sip of his coffee to hide the stupid smile that's trying to take over his face entirely.

-

At university spare time is fleeting, if Taichi isn't out with friends, kicking about a ball or ferociously trying to hammer something into his brain, well, he's probably sleeping. Back home, things are a little different. Sure, he has the soccer job and training, but that currently takes up a couple of days a week, three if he's being generous and stretching out some of his ideas into notebooks that he takes to show coach next session. Most of his newfound university friends live in various parts of Japan, all too far away to venture out for the day, and his friends that live closer all have lives of their own (except for Jou who has no life of his own, just studying), or, in the case of Mimi, serious shopping that needs attending to whilst she still has the luxury of her dad's credit card over the summer. He'll never take it off her, he's too much of a softy.

“I can find you plenty of jobs to do around the home.” His Mom says, her head no doubt popping into view right above him, her ponytail dangling down along the side of her neck. She sighs, “Not that you don't seem incredibly busy and all.” He's currently lying prone across the sofa, one leg suspended off the side precariously, probably breathing in lint and bits of fur from Hikari's mangy feline. 

“I suppose,” he mumbles, craning around as Yuuko dumps a pile of dirty washing on his back, almost like she was ready and waiting, and leaves him to it. Is it just his imagination or did she have a jauntier step to her walk as she left the apartment? 

He rolls himself off the sofa, socks, tops and miscellaneous clothing rolling with him, forcing him to stick his hand under the sofa to snatch back any he might be missing. That cat will be off with anything if he even gives her a second. Not to mention how likely it is that she'll try to destroy each of his fingers.

Once all the items are accounted for, fingers still intact, he starts piling them in the machine, the sound of soft footsteps just behind him.

“So do you remember how I used to come and watch some of your practices after school and we got to that point when you said, Hikari, please for the sake of my sanity and the faces of my friends, you have got to stop turning up to my matches?” Taichi puts down the liquid soap he's supposed to be measuring. He remembers how a lot of the guys had stared and how valiantly they'd tried not to be noticed by him. Mostly though he remembers the face of Furuta and how he could have quite easily planted his fist in the middle of it had he said one more thing about Hikari when he thought Taichi had been out of earshot. He hadn't and he'd nearly lost his captaincy.

“Yes,” he replies cautiously because Hikari is hovering and she seems tense in a way that he isn't able to figure out completely. She doesn't do, or probably need dating advice. Not from her big brother.

“Takeru Takaishi.”

It's a good job he put the soap down as he can imagine the pink and gloopy mess that would be covering the floor and their feet in this moment. 

Shit, does she know something? Should he play dumb or is there absolutely no point with Hikari? 

“What about him?” He tries, his words careful, slow and measured.

Hikari rolls her eyes at him.

“I'd appreciate he booty calls you directly and not me. That's what I'm saying.”

“What?” The liquid soap is by now entirely forgotten. “What was he saying?” Taichi shakes his head. Did that sound too eager? “Wait, you have his number?” Forget it. Hikari has his number? “Why do you have his number?” Has Hikari ever? No, she said booty call right, which... he can feel his face colouring. What has Takeru said to her?

“He's been asking me about you. Constantly and in a way that's kind of obvious.” Taichi's eyes widen as Hikari starts scrolling through her phone. Her tone light as she says, “I invited him over.”

Taichi feels his mouth go dry. “You did what? Hikari, I'm his teacher, you can't just go-” 

Hikari holds her hand up, shoves a stray lock of hair behind her ear and throws him that pointed look of hers, channelling somebody far older and wiser. “You're his assistant coach in a summer team.” The get over yourself Taichi is implied. She pockets her phone and moves to start shoving her feet into her shoes. “Miyako calls,” she says waving her phone once again, “and I'm going out and you're vegetating here on your own. Also I'm sick of being your go between.”

Ten minutes later and the washer's going round, Hikari's left the building and Takeru is walking through the door and shuffling out of his shoes, bending over to line them up with the rest of the families as Taichi watches him. “Picture will last longer,” Takeru says, turning round and throwing Taichi a look that says I know you were looking. Taichi sniffs. He was, but that's not the point. Takeru is a smart ass, Takeru is grinning at him. 

Taichi is normally the one that does the outrageously flirting thing. 

He's maybe in over his head here.

“Listen, my mom always said to stay away from boys with shiny hair and twinkling eyes.” 

“She did not.” Takeru says, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. He's wearing a simple green hoodie and jeans and he looks comfortable, his hair falling across his eyes in a way that makes him want to touch him. Taichi gets the urge to ruffle him up a bit, run his fingers through his hair until it's messy, drag him over to the sofa and pull that hoodie off to get to the good stuff.

He crosses his own arms and bites down hard on his lip to stop all those thoughts before they get a good chance to start going. “Well she said it to Hikari and I can only imagine that she'd want the same for her first born.”

Takeru looks at him. “You think I have twinkling eyes then?”

Taichi opens and closes his mouth in his best impression of a goldfish. He has him with that one. “Get in here and take a seat.”

Takeru closes the door behind him. “Hikari just said not to do anything on the sofa that would mean it needs a thorough cleaning. Do you do that often or..?”

He is going to kill Hikari. It makes no sense to him how people think she's all sweet and innocent.

“Surprisingly, no.”

“That reminds me.” He fishes in his pocket, pulling out- oh god, oh god no. “I believe these are yours? Don't worry, they've been washed.”

Taichi blinks, staring at the pair of boxers in Takeru's hands.

“Please tell me your Mom did not wash them?”

“What, no!” Takeru rolls his eyes. “Though I think she did put them in the dryer.”

If the ground could swallow him right there and then, Taichi would let it. Instead he snatches the boxers out of Takeru's hands and moves to shove them out of sight. Definitely the last time he ever drinks tequila.

Takeru flops down on the sofa right as the cat decides to make its presence known, creeping along the back, her little claws digging into the fabric. Taichi has learnt to understand her language and right now she's thinking how fun it would be to sink those claws right into Takeru's head.

“The cat,” he says right as Takeru turns around and reaches out to take a hold of her. “Ah, no,” his arms are there, ready and stretching out as Takeru lifts the thing up and flops it down on his knee like he isn't holding onto a she beast. One hand stroking down the length of her back as she arches up into his hand. Taichi steps back and blinks. The cat only likes Hikari, okay she'll put up with their mom at times, but Taichi and his dad, no way. Then here's Takeru just taking the thing in his arms like no big deal as she purrs and curves into his touch as if she's actually enjoying his company. 

“What the hell?” he says, backing up as it's eyeing his fingers like sausage appetisers. 

“What?” Takeru asks, eyes wide and hand frozen mid stroke. “Am I not supposed to?” The hand falls back down onto the cat and she purrs, nuzzling her head up against his fingers. It's astounding. Taichi kind of can't believe what he's seeing.

He approaches slowly, taking a seat and staring down at the wonder that is this boy and the she devil he's holding. “How are you doing that?” He whispers and Takeru looks up at him, long eyelashes causing spider shadows on his face, completely bewildered as to how amazing this cat magic and boy charm wonder of his is. 

He shrugs and looks at Taichi like he might be having some kind of an episode. “I just-” and then he traces his fingers down the cat's back, the she beast vibrating like a waiting truck. “Here,” he grabs Taichi's hand, his fingers cool as he wraps them around the back of Taichi's and moves the both of their hands towards the cat.

Taichi hisses as Takeru makes a soft shushing sound. It's alright for him, he's not had her sink her teeth into the soft fleshy part between his thumb and forefinger, then refuse to let go until she's bitten through skin, muscle and bone. His fingers sink into soft fur and for a second he imagines that he sees her eyes flash, ready to strike, right before she turns her head, angling her body so that he's rubbing her belly.

“Goddamn cheek of it,” he says. “Okay, you might be worth keeping around just for this reason.” Taichi leans forward, the way that Takeru and now the cat, are sat, leaves him hardly any room, his chest pressing up against Takeru's back. “Takeru Takaishi, cat whisperer.” 

“Sounds like something to put on my university applications. Really though?” He turns, lower lip jutting forward. “That's the only reason?”

This is dangerous territory. 

Takeru blinks slowly, his mouth a shiny stretch of pink that Taichi suddenly finds he can't tear his gaze away from. That breathless, weightless feeling taking over as Takeru closes those last few inches between them. Taichi stretches out, hand moving to curve around Takeru's cheek, over his jaw and around the back of his neck, curling through his hair to drag him in closer. 

Takeru makes a small sound and Taichi presses in closer, a flush of heat flooding through his stomach as Takeru mouths at his lips, fingers curling under the lip of Taichi's shirt, spreading out once they're under to touch what is suddenly really sensitive skin. 

Takeru pulls himself up, pushing Taichi back and pinning him down, hips either side of him, his hand roaming further so that Taichi feels his ribs tighten, his breath leaving him. 

“About what Hikari said?” Takeru says, leaning back, lips now wet and a rising flush creeping up his neck. A cool breeze taking over where once Takeru was pressed against him.

Taichi rolls his eyes, fingers spreading over that flushed skin as he wonders what it'd taste like. He moves to push himself up, shrugging as his mouth sucks at the hollow of Takeru's throat.

“I never made her any promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, this took so long and yes, I have decided to make it a three parter. Hopefully the next and last chapter won't take quite so long. So yes, chapter three, in which Mimi is an unhelpful best friend and complete enabler and Yamato is not best pleased with the entire situation.


	3. Chapter 3

Sora's sat at the bar, one hand cradling a bottle of one of those beers that people put the fruit in, a thick wedge of lime bobbing away in the bubbles as she lifts it back up and takes a sip, spotting him out of the corner of one eye and grimacing.

“You're late,” she says, turning around on the stool she's sat on to face him, one slim leg crossing over the other.

“Ah, but I am here,” Taichi counters, swiping the bottle from her hands and taking a sip of his own. “Ugh.” He pulls a face. “How do you drink this stuff?”

Sora swipes the bottle back. Her face doing that thing where her eyebrows get all scrunchy and summon forth a lecture. “Forty minutes, Taichi.”

“I know, I know. I'm sorry.” He gives her his best, I'm pitiful and you have to forgive me look. Sora's about one of the only people who's immune to it.

“I had to fend off unwanted attention from the likes of Sleazy Mcfee over there.” Taichi follows her line of sight to a guy that's slumped over the bar cradling his hand and distinctly not making eye contact with either of them.

“From the looks of him, or what's left of his spirit, you held your own.”

Sora twists around to face him. “That's not the point and you know it.”

“I know.” He wraps one arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close to his chest. “So allow me to buy you another of these fruity monstrosities and we can call it quits as you forgive me. Deal?”

Sora sniffs, pushing herself back and adjusting her hair by fluffing it up with her fingers. She's smiling though which means Taichi's won her over. He makes determined eye contact and hand wavy motions to get the attention of the guy behind the bar, ordering Sora another bottle and himself a drink. 

“So where is tall, blond and broody?”

Sora covers her smirk with her newly acquired bottle and throws him a look that is supposed to be stern and falls just slightly short of being serious. Hah, he has her. “Yamato is backstage preparing.”

Taichi rolls his eyes. “Deciding which shirt goes best with his eyes?” Sora's arm moves swiftly enough to catch him on his shoulder, knuckles digging into his skin in what, if she put much more force behind it, would definitely leave behind a bruise. 

“Okay, okay. Truce?” Taichi rubs his shoulder and throws Sora his best wounded look but she's having none of it. Yamato's... well he's alright. Apart from that time he thumped him when they were eleven, so maybe Taichi did thump him back. Maybe, truth be told, he doesn't remember who started it. Okay he's great with Sora, but he just happens to rub Taichi up the wrong way a little. And vice versa.

“Don't,” she warns him.

Taichi nods. “Best behaviour, I promise.”

She takes another sip of her drink and eyeballs him. “You'd better be.”

-

Taichi's phone vibrates with a message from Mimi. 

Why are you doing this to meeeeeeee???!!!?

He's been sending her pictures on and off all night. The streams of people in front of him, swaying and trying to press their way in closer to the band. Pictures of him and Sora and the multicoloured cocktail he'd persuaded her to drink. She absolutely refused another round, a faint flush from the alcohol already coating her cheeks, instead making her way backstage to say hi, where Yamato was packing up with the rest of the band.

Music is still pumping out through the speakers around the bar, noticeably quieter with each song as the bar staff try their best to encourage everybody to get the hell out of there. People are already starting to leave, the last diehards scrambling to get in one more drink before the bar officially closes. Taichi finishes the last of his own drink, the guy behind the bar staring him down as if he's daring him to order another. Luckily for the both of them, he's done though, turning around to find his arms suddenly full of one highly intoxicated Takeru.

“You came,” he stretches the last word out, blue eyes blinking up at Taichi and well past the point of tipsy. Taichi looks up, searching for anyone who might be with him and whether they're in the same sorry state that Takeru is. Takeru sways on his feet, wrapping his arms tightly around Taichi's ribcage and rubbing his head up against his chest. “I knew you would.”

“Okay,” Taichi untwists Takeru's arms from around him, wrapping his own arm around Takeru's shoulders in order to keep him from face planting with the floor. “Who did you come with?”

Takeru grins back at him. “You silly.”

“Right.” Taichi nods. He hadn't even realised Takeru would be here, even if he did seem to have a knack for getting into bars underage at every single opportunity. Nobody seemed to be coming forward to claim him though and Taichi didn't recognise anyone that might be with him. There were no guys from the soccer club lurking away in the dark and shadowy corners, the majority of the crowds huddling together or making their way to the door.

“Hey, stop that,” Taichi pulls Takeru's hand out from where it's creeping underneath his shirt.

“But it's warm,” Takeru insists, followed by, “woah,” as he almost stumbles before Taichi catches him. Takeru looks up at him, “be careful there.” 

Taichi raises an eyebrow. “I think we need to get you home.”

“I think we need to get you home.” Takeru's hand starts creeping back under his shirt and Taichi squirms, fingers ghosting up and over his ribs.

He shoots a message to Sora and tells her he'll be in touch. He's not leaving her on her own and she'll be fine getting home thanks to Yamato.

Taichi extricates Takeru's hand. “Home time, now.” Before the last few stragglers have another show worth watching.

-

Takeru's barely able to keep on his feet, but he is fit enough to insist that Taichi is going the wrong way when he's walking/half carrying Takeru home. “Dad's place is this way,” he sings, tugging on Taichi's shirt to get him to follow.

“You're sure?” Taichi's had his own moments of drunken wandering, mostly dragging an always unsuspecting Koushiro into any place that that late at night is still open and serving anything remotely edible. Koushiro falls for it every time. It's a shame really. Takeru hasn't opened up a lot about his families living situation, just that he spends most of his time living with his mom, who, if she is wide awake and waiting, is probably panicking right about now.

Takeru nods and throws Taichi a look as if to say, god, how can you not trust me? “He's away working for the week. He's away a lot. Working.”

“Uh huh, for the week.”

Taichi shifts Takeru's weight so that he's still able to lean against him and not constantly walking into anything that's not moving. He's done that, a lot, and each time it sends him into a fit of giggles. Trusting an inebriated Takeru to take them in the right direction. Thanking whoever it is that's looking out for him that he at least doesn't have to do awkward first introductions by dropping their son off half out of it.

By the time they get into the apartment and Takeru unlocks the door, Taichi is exhausted and Takeru just that little bit more sober. The lights are off and thankfully nobody comes out shouting and hurling abuse at the noise that Takeru makes trying to make himself a drink. Taichi follows him around and then decides to take over, leading Takeru over to the couch as he shouts instructions about which cupboard to look in for some glasses.

Despite the fact that Takeru's shouting at him to fill it with the 'good stuff', Taichi pours out two glasses of cool water, taking them over to Takeru who swallows his down in almost two gulps. 

Taichi raises an eyebrow, “Thirsty?” He takes a sip of his own and hands the rest to Takeru. He probably needs the rehydration a bit more than him. Takeru finishes the glass and leans back into the couch, closing his eyes. The hair across his forehead is all straggly and sweaty, his eyes, when he opens them, a stark and glossy blue. 

“Thanks,” he says, pushing himself up to put the glass to one side.

Taichi's about to say you're welcome and maybe approach the topic of getting him into his room when he's suddenly got a lap full of eager teenage boy. Takeru slides his hips either side of Taichi's, fisting his hands into Taichi's hair as he pulls himself up and forward. He opens his mouth instinctively and Takeru licks at the roof of his mouth, bumping their noses together and catching his forehead along the way. It isn't elegant, Takeru's too bone loose for that, but it is desperate, a curl of want firing inside his belly as Takeru shifts, his teeth scraping against Taichi's bottom lip as he rocks back into his lap.

“What the hell? Takeru?”

A door bangs and Takeru groans and Taichi feels like his heart is in his throat, disoriented enough to not be able to comprehend if it's from Takeru kissing him or the interruption.

“Taichi?”

“Sora?” He looks from her to Yamato, (“Again, what the hell?”) as Takeru awkwardly climbs out of his lap, not helped in the slightest by the fact that he stumbles and almost falls flat on his face doing it.

“This is your best behaviour?” Sora asks him, scraping back a stray lock of hair with her hand. She's no doubt thinking Taichi planned this, but honestly, he had no idea and if he had, well, he definitely wouldn't have been caught with a lap full of Takeru. “How do you two-”

“It's okay, we know each other.” Takeru hurries to add and Yamato's eyes widen. 

“You're drunk.” He turns to stare at Taichi. “You got him drunk?”

He looks between them both and Taichi stands up, about to explain exactly what's happened, even if by the end of it, and with what they walked in on, he hardly looks like the caring, mostly sober chaperone he'd intended to be.

“It's fine, he's my assistant soccer coach,” Takeru says and Taichi's too slow in raising his hands to stop Yamato's fist colliding with his face.

-

“You know when I said quiet night in,” Mimi goes, eyes fluttering up to take in Taichi's face, her mouth rounding into a little 'o', as she widens the door to let him in fully. “Your face,” she says, her cool fingers dancing around the puff and swell of his cheek in a way that right now feels really comforting. She ushers him inside and over to the couch as she tears apart her kitchen looking for some form of medical equipment that Jou will have no doubt insisted she keep for emergencies.

“I got punched.” Taichi sounds out around a mouth that feels far too tender and full of cotton wool.

She's kneeling in front of him now, hair still mussed up from sleep as she throws a pack of frozen peas into his lap. The cold is shocking and even wincing sends a sharp wave of pain through his cheek. “I can see that.” She rolls her eyes, prodding the peas into his free hand that's not cradling his cheek and what little remains of his pride, which is very, very little. “Frozen peas work, right?” She's got her phone out, tip tapping out a message as Taichi presses the ice cold vegetables against his face. The phone vibrates and Mimi smiles, “Jou says just to keep using them until the swelling goes down.”

“You told Jou?”

“Of course I told Jou, he's a doctor.”

“In training. I came here looking for sympathy, Meems, not so that you could point and take pictures.”

He gives her his best hurt look. Mimi flaps her hand at him. “Don't be so dramatic. This is Jou we're talking about, if he's not already collapsed back into bed with exhaustion, then he's sweating over his studies and his head will be so crammed with facts and statistics that the next time you see him, he won't even remember.”

Taichi nods and pulls away the peas from his face, leaving behind a cool stream of water that dribbles down his neck. “Does it look bad?”

Mimi leans forward, squinting her eyes. “I've seen worse, including on your own face.” She pushes his hand with the peas back towards his cheek. “So how does the other guy look or do I not want to ask?”

Taichi's eyes darken. “He looks fine, trust me.”

“Okay,” Mimi gets up and shoves at him to scooch up on the couch. “Tell me all.”

Taichi sighs, he's tired and his face aches even with the peas numbing his skin. “This guy I've been... seeing.” Is that what you call it? Mostly Taichi's tried to remain professional on the field, okay, he maybe stares just the odd bit too long at Takeru's legs when he's running... or standing still and doing absolutely nothing. And he's maybe touched and licked at an amount of Takeru's skin that definitely can't be seen as just friendship material, but then neither of them has ever said that they're anything official. And now, well now he's probably fired and looking at a completely celibate summer.

“You remember Yamato?”

Mimi leans back to think. “He's in the band? The one you went to see tonight?” Taichi nods. “Yes, god do I remember him, that photo you sent where he's leaning in, mouth over-” 

“Right Mimi, I don't need to hear all the details.”

“Wait, you mean you and he?” She sits up. “Isn't Sora?”

“Not exactly no, and yes, she is.” 

She blinks. “Not exactly, but?” 

“As it turns out, his younger brother...”

Her mouth opens and shuts. 

“You remember that guy at the bar a few weeks ago?” 

“Wait, puppy dog eyes?” She's putting two and two together. Takeru's blond and tall like Yamato, and there's even a family resemblance which Taichi wants to kick himself for never seeing, all those times Takeru and he have been face to face. Not that Yamato ever came up in conversation.

“Takeru,” Taichi nods and Mimi squeezes his shoulder, knowing that now is not the time to be taking the piss. That'll come later once he's attempted to put himself back together, stitch by stitch. The thing is, now that he's actually had time to think about it, more than just the quick hot flash of want as Takeru's kissing his mouth, he actually maybe really liked, no likes him, truly.

“I really messed up this one.”

Mimi gathers him into a hug. “I guess this means I'm making up my sofa.”

-

“Are you not going to get that?” Mimi rushes past him, her hair bunched up high in a knot at the top of her head, throwing a pink and fleecy robe over her shoulders. The banging at the door continues as Taichi folds up the blankets used for his makeshift bed overnight. Truth be told he's still feeling sorry for himself, and answering the door to one of Mimi's many friends in the state that he's in is the last thing he wants to put himself through. Sora had messaged him late last night, suggesting a meet up in a cafe in about an hour. He'd hovered over the reply button all night, finally tempting fate and agreeing to the meet up about a half an hour ago.

Mimi swings the door open, about to bust whoever is on the other side. “Alright, alright all read- -y.”

“Is he here?”

Mimi turns to look at Taichi, the door half open as a bedraggled and definitely worse for wear Takeru stands on the other side. “Um,” Mimi looks from Takeru back to Taichi, waiting for some kind of clue. Taichi puts the blanket he's holding down on the arm of the sofa, nodding at Mimi to let him in.

He winces when he sees Taichi's face, he's not looked in the mirror this morning, the swelling's gone down, (and he now owes Mimi a bag of peas) but he can imagine it's still an angry swirl of blue and red bruising. Takeru shuffles on the spot, lifting his arm up and stepping forward before he thinks better of it, staying put.

“You don't look that much better yourself.” Taichi laughs, but it comes out sarcastic and bitter. Takeru looks like he hasn't slept, his hair's been shoved under a beanie hat and the shadows under his eyes stand out in stark contrast to the sickly pale of his skin. 

“Hikari said you might be here.” He shrugs his shoulders, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You should message her when you get a minute. I might have made her a little bit worried.” He rubs his head and scratches at his hat. “I'm really sorry about everything. Yamato. He shouldn't have done that. So stupid.” Taichi still hasn't said anything and Takeru looks positively sick. “I was stupid. I was stupid and you got hurt and-” 

There's a particular look somebody gets when they have a hangover, a watering of the eyes and a sudden peculiar pause. Taichi points to his left. “Bathroom's just down the hall.” Takeru doesn't even nod, hand clasping over his mouth as he runs in the direction Taichi is pointing. 

Mimi gives him a look, one hand cradling her hip as he shoves his phone into his pocket. “Make sure that he's left by the time I get back.”

Mimi sighs. “Taichi!” As he walks out of the door completely ignoring her.

-

For a moment it's like deja vu, except this time Sora's sat at a table surrounded by harassed looking women trying to entertain their toddlers and student looking types hammering away on their tablets or laptops. She's cradling a steaming mug of something that smells delicious in the palm of her hands, the look she throws him when she spots him, one that he's entirely too used to.

“You're late,” she says, pushing him towards the other half of the table where his own coffee is waiting. “Don't blame me if it's gone cold on you.”

This time it was entirely intentional. He'd spent a good ten minutes deliberating by walking around and around past the coffee shops entrance. Taichi sniffs, the coffee's still steaming and Sora can see that, which means she's still playing at being miffed from last nights fiasco. 

“Sora, look-” She holds up a hand to interrupt him.

“I'm not here to berate you. You're an adult, Taichi and so is Takeru. As much as Yamato might like to think, or still pretend otherwise.” Taichi raises his eyebrows, eyes widening. “I think Takeru's already had enough words with him on how he dealt with what he walked in on last night, enough for the both of you.” She smiles then and Taichi feels his heart rhythm return to normal. This is Sora he's talking to, how could he forget that she's awesome? “A head's up would have been nice though.”

Taichi feels his cheeks start to glow, taking a sip of his drink before he answers. “If I'd have had any idea, believe me.”

Sora laughs, fingers playing with her mug handle. “So you and Takeru?”

“Are over.” He puts his coffee mug back down on the table. “I shouldn't have let it carry on in the first place.”

“Really?” She looks surprised at that, like it's the last answer she expected to hear from him.

“I'm his assistant soccer coach. I should have been more responsible.”

Sora waves her hand, wrinkling up her nose. “I know you take your soccer and your responsibilities seriously, but this is a summer team we're talking about. Isn't the game more for fun than anything else?”

Taichi feels himself starting to get defensive. Yes, it is just a summer team, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't mean anything in the long run. And Takeru, well Takeru...

“Takeru really likes you.”

Taichi feels his coffee burning a path down his throat. He likes Takeru, he does, but he's also not after any trouble.

“Yamato?”

“Might need a little bit of time to get used to it, but that's his problem.” She cradles her chin in her hands. “In his defence, imagine you walked in on somebody all over Hikari.” Taichi feels himself shudder and Sora's leaning forward, grinning. “Exactly.”

“I can't help it if I'm irresistible.”

Sora punches him in the chest and Taichi leans back laughing, “See, you can't keep your hands off of me.”

-

He walks into Mimi's to find her and Takeru rummaging through cookery books, dirty and batter covered bowls and spoons lying haphazardly all over the kitchen table. Cracked egg shells on the kitchen counter and bags of flour raining down white powder all over the cooker. It looks like the kitchen exploded in on itself.

Mimi looks up, spots him, and grins. She's changed out of her pyjamas, the cosy leggings she likes to wear on her 'lounge around the house day', covered in floury hand prints. “We're trying to create the perfect hangover cupcake. Ingredients include bacon, chocolate and even vodka!”

Takeru looks up at him sheepish, even if his skin does now look a normal, non-greenish hue.

Mimi walks around the table, filling in the silence with lazy chatter. “Did you know Takeru runs his own blog? He's going to help me make a cookery based one. All those recipes I've been dying to put together.”

“Mimi.”

Taichi looks from Takeru to Mimi. He needs time to think and he'd asked her to do one thing for him. “I asked you to get rid of him. Not keep him warm and in comfort and feed him like a pet.” Mimi pouts at him, clearly torn between her loyalty to Taichi and her new role as Takeru's bff. It's like being an only child makes her feel left out or something, so she collects people and feels the need to nurture them like long lost siblings. 

She bites back at him, hands on her hips. “Last time I checked this was my apartment.”

“Maybe I should be going,” Takeru says, his chair scraping across the floor as Taichi avoids looking at him and instead focuses on Mimi's frantic wide eyes and - what the hell are you doing letting him walk out of here - frantic head gesturing is doing. 

Takeru turns before he leaves the apartment, thanking Mimi, his hand wrapping around the door frame, hesitant and not wanting to close it behind him. “I really am sorry about everything.” Taichi doesn't answer. “I'll see you at practice on Monday?” Taichi keeps his stony silence and waits for the door to close before he opens his eyes again. Waiting five seconds before Mimi rounds in on him.

“What are you, an idiot?” She pounds her fist against his chest. “Go after him.”

“It's not that simple, Mimi.” She rolls her eyes, wiping one floury hand right across her eyebrows. There's a couple of smudges of it round her cheeks and her neck too, but that's just like Mimi, once she gets into something, she goes all in.

“Do you like him?”

Taichi keeps his mouth shut, stubbornly refusing to give her eye contact, but Mimi knows him all too well, sighing as she says, “You're the only one making it difficult and you know it. You know Taichi, there are times when you can be your own worst enemy.” She walks back to the kitchen table, piling up the dirty crockery to put in the sink.

He may be an idiot, but he's not a complete ass hole, walking over to give Mimi a hand with the dishes. He's scraping what looks like chocolate cake batter off of the table with Mimi's spatula cake thing when she pops a cupcake down in front of him. It looks like its chocolate sponge, a swirl of vanilla and chocolate ganache topping it off and then... Taichi picks it up, a tiny fondant soccer ball adorning the top. 

“He made it for you,” Mimi says, “he wanted to make you a little trophy, to show how your team will win, but considering he cracked egg shell into the mixture, I thought it a bit advanced for his technical skills right now.” 

It's adorably cute for a cupcake, although the result is probably in the tasting. 

Taichi puts the cake back down on the table and Mimi moves to cover his hand with her own. “Go after him.”

This time Taichi doesn't need telling twice before he gets moving.

-

Daisuke is giving Taichi a headache.

He's run through their formations what feels like a hundred times, working himself up into a flap before the game's even started; even if his energy is giving a boost to the rest of the team, currently doing stretches to warm themselves up. Coach informed Taichi there'd been some last minute changes to the team and Daisuke's been questioning everything ever since. 

“We'll be fine, Daisuke. Trust me.” Taichi pats him on the back and Coach throws him a grateful look for the peace and quiet as Daisuke nods and allows himself to finally breathe out, spotting a waving Ken in the steadily building crowd and throwing him an energetic wave back.

“Taichi!” Mimi's voice cuts through the chatter and Taichi looks to where she's stood off to the side with of all people, Takeru. He jogs over. Takeru's not even dressed to play yet and the game's almost starting. Mimi beams at him as she thrusts a Tupperware box at his chest. “Look what we made this morning.” Taichi peels the lid back to find a whole teams worth of cupcakes iced up in the teams colours. 

“The not so neat ones are, of course, my contribution.” Takeru says, leaning back as Mimi scoffs at him. 

She bats Taichi's hand away as he goes to grab one. Snatching the box back from him. “Ah ah, these are going to be for after your team wins the match. These are winning cupcakes.”

Taichi pouts half heartedly, turning to Takeru to say, “So how come you're not playing?”

“I quit the team.”

“You what?” 

Takeru shrugs. “This whole thing is more important to you,” Taichi decides to tell him later about the warm feeling that's flooding through his chest. “And it's not really my thing, besides, I get a better view up there in the bleachers.” He leans in towards Taichi. “I get the best view from the back.”

Mimi coughs and Taichi blinks back into awareness. “Watch out for this one. Looks like an angel, but he's the devil himself.”

Takeru throws her his best, innocent,who me look. Taichi's having none of it, “Trust me, I know exactly what this one can get up to.”

“And he's not been complaining.” Takeru hums, taking a step forward to press their mouths together. 

Taichi faintly hears the sound of jeering coming from behind him somewhere before Takeru takes a fistful of his shirt, pulling him in closer towards him and sliding his tongue into his mouth, drowning out everything but his heart pounding fast in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I've had so much fun writing this and it's been a long time since I wrote anything for this fandom. Hopefully I've improved since my very first days. Thanks for reading!


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